


House of the Rising Son

by chemicalburnfromthespiralperm



Series: About A Boy [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other, Protective Sam Winchester, Sam-Centric, Stanford Era, Teen Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 21:09:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4640307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chemicalburnfromthespiralperm/pseuds/chemicalburnfromthespiralperm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester -- the Boy King.  Sam thought the nightmares were over when Jess died -- but on the eve of his son's 13th birthday, it all comes crashing back.  They'd never completely gotten out of the life, but Sam swore he'd never let Dean live the life he did.  (Supernatural AU based on episode 12 of season 10: About a Boy)</p>
            </blockquote>





	House of the Rising Son

**Author's Note:**

> Immediately after watching this episode, I got the idea to write a Supernatural AU of this episode, where Dean is Sam's son. I thought it would be an incredible twist on the story we love and an insight into how Sam would raise his own children.

**EXT. NIGHT.  PALO ALTO, CA.  OCT 31ST.  3:47 AM**

"This has to be some sort of sick fucking joke."

Those seem to be the only words he's capable of saying.

Flames are growing by the second, ugly orange things licking the sky, trying their hardest to become the moonlight but there are brave soldiers tied to the earth that won't let them escape.  Sam looks like a silver solider painted against the moonlight, head in his hands and body shaking with sobs.  He had one love and her name was Jessica.  He didn't think it would end in fire, just like it ended with his own mother.  Twenty-two years.

Brady just looks on like he can't quite believe what he's seeing -- and why would he be able to believe this?  Sam and Dean only just barely got out alive... at the cost of Jessica's life.  Brady holds this sleeping four year old in his arms while his father sobs on the hood of his car and he can't quite wrap his head around anything.  At least Dean was asleep.  He'd never know how Sam managed to get both of them out alive without a scratch on either of them, but God willing here they were.  Sam had some minor burns, maybe some smoke inhalation but Dean was perfect -- clean bill of health other than a skinned knee he suffered the day prior.

It wasn't supposed to be this way.  The townies have been burning for just under two hours now, burnt rubble and singed debris falling while each firefighter does their best to calm the flames.  Students have crowded around, all wondering what's happened, trying to push passed officers to see Sam, to see Dean, to make sure they're both alive.

"Sam, I-I wish I knew what to say."

Spontaneous combustion.  They don't really know what else to call it.

"What the fuck am I going to tell Dean?  Good morning, son, your mom is dead!"

Brady winces at the word and even just saying as much is enough to send Sam into another fit.  He's tearing himself off the hood and launching himself into the street, screaming, pushing at a fire fighter, throwing a punch.  No one is really daring to stop him -- his girlfriend just died in a fire.  He's a single parent now.

Sam has his law school interview tomorrow -- what the fuck is he supposed to do?

"It -- it doesn't have to be that way, Sam!  This whole school has your back and you know it!  You... you don't have to tell anyone anything.  I'll call Jess's family.  I'll tell everyone.  You just worry about your interview -- "

"My interview?  My son's mother and the love of my life is burnt to a crisp inside of that building and I'm supposed to worry about getting into law school."

Sam settles back onto the hood with an eerie calm about him.  He's not upset -- he's angry, and maybe that's what he needs to be.

Twenty-two years to the day.  November 2nd...

The stove finally goes, a loud explosion that makes the little boy in Brady's arms jump, and something in Sam finally snaps back into place.  He carefully takes his son and holds him, cradles him, whispers soothing nothings into his ear, sings "Hey, Jude" to him in hopes that it will calm something in both of them.

There wasn't much left in the apartment, just a few shoes, some keepsakes.  None of Dean's baby pictures were damaged so Brady thanks God for small favors.  All of the clothes, the shoes, the socks, all gone.  Dean's toys, Dean's bed, everything they own.  Gone.  They can get those things back.  Someone already started taking donations for Sam and his son, and the last he heard they were up to a solid two grand.  There are good people left in this world, and luckily all of them love Sam and Dean.

"Sam, you can't just leave."

Brady gave Sam his duffle bag.  The only clothes Dean has are on his back, but they have his baby pictures.  Sam can borrow Brady's clothes.  The money people are donating will help them out, but Sam is still spiraling.

"The hell I can't.  I _need_ to find my dad.  I can't..."  Brady watches the emotions roll of Sam's shoulders.  "Brady, you don't understand.  You've spent the last four years complaining -- how can you know a guy but not really know him?  You have _no_ idea.  I have to go.  I have to find my dad.  Dean and I can't stay here, not anymore.  Not after --"

Sam stops himself.  He's clearly resigned himself to leaving.  Brady could get on his hands and knees, offer to drop out himself just to babysit Dean the whole time and Sam would still be leaving, right here, right now.  He's really going to throw four years away.  How _can_ you know a guy without really knowing him?

"Are you...  Am I ever going to see you again?"

That seems to stop Sam in his tracks.  He drops the things he was packing for Dean onto the bed, turns sharply to face Brady and just shakes his head, a solemn sort of surrender, not quite a yes but not a no.

"I don't know.  I honestly don't know."

"You... I need you to at least promise to drop the kid off whenever you need a babysitter.  Please?  This kid is my bro.  He's my main squeeze.  I... I never thought I'd have to deal with never seeing him again."

Sam seems to thoroughly think this through, and perhaps he does realize he's being brash, but he just shakes his head and goes back to packing.

Maybe it'll be the same life Sam had -- mom dies, dad cries and the cycle starts all over again.

Or maybe this time it will be different.

"You'll see him again.  I swear.  I'd never take him from you, from any of you, but I need to find my dad.  Jess is _gone_.  He needs to know."

Sam pauses.

"He needs to meet his grandson."


End file.
